Kreacher Comforts
by slytherinsal
Summary: The Dursleys did not take well to being threatened by the Order of the Phoenix after year 5, and Harry has a desperate idea and calls upon Kreature to help him fake his own death and disappear. Rated for implicit violence and dark themes. No Ron bashing, irritating Dumbledore.


Harry lay bruised and battered on his bed. Again. Vernon had not reacted well to being threatened by the Order of the Phoenix, and nobody had come anywhere near Harry to find out if he was all right, nor even written to him.

Harry was having major second thoughts about how he viewed the Order, and Dumbledore, and the Wizarding world in general.

Sirius was dead.

It was his fault because he did not know enough.

He would betray Sirius' memory if he did not learn enough to do better before he killed anyone else by accident.

Sirius had once said that he was making Harry his heir.

"Kreacher!" said Harry.

The wizened house elf popped in front of him.

"What does half-blood mudblood-lover master want?" he demanded sullenly.

"Your Master is now the head of family Black, correct?" asked Harry.

"Master appreciates his position? Wonders will never cease," said Kreacher.

"No, your master does not appreciate his position because all the adults I have known have failed me," said Harry. "And so it is going to be up to you to teach me how to be head of family Black, how to take my place in society, and how to plan my revenge on all those who have let me down."

Kreacher cackled and capered wildly.

"Kreacher will teach master to be pure-blood wizard lord!" he said.

"I also need to learn occlumensy," said Harry.

"Kreacher will fetch books for master, if master wants?"

"No, Kreacher, I want something more complex than that," said Harry. "I want you to arrange a private reading of my godfather's will for me at Gringotts; and I want Grimmauld place cleaned fit for a lord of the Black family to use it as a residence warded against the Order of the Phoenix. Is the werewolf living there still?"

"Yes," said Kreacher, resentfully.

"Well, he hasn't lifted a finger to help me, and nor did he check on me when I was growing up. You may throw him out and tell him he may contact me in writing through Gringotts regarding his reasons for betraying me so many times. Be gentle with him. You can throw anyone else there out without being gentle."

"Yes, master," Kreacher grinned evilly.

"When the house is fit for me to live in, you will collect me. Can you do transfiguration magic?"

"Or course, master."

"Good. Transfigure a pig or something into a precise likeness of me, making sure to show it is starving and bruised and with broken ribs exactly the way I am now, but make it worse."

Kreacher ran a hand down in front of Harry's body and his breath hissed.

"Who has done this to master?"

"My rotten relatives, and I am going to get them for it, which is what the pig is for. And it will get the Order as well, because officially I shall be dead. And if I leave this place with no intent to return it will bring down the wards and make me seem dead."

Kreacher frowned.

"Kreacher will have to remove tracking wards and health monitoring wards on young master."  
"YOU SAID WHAT?"

Kreacher cowered.

"Master ..."

"Kreacher, I should not have shouted. It is not your fault. I am angry with Dumbledore who knows I have broken ribs if he has health monitors on me."

"Headmaster nastyface is a hypocrite," said Kreacher. "I can heal master without magic tracking showing."

"You can? Right, we'll bring this forward. Get the transfigured pig in here, heal me, and take me to the end of the street. Then when I've set up the revenge, we can go to Grimmauld Place and you can ... you can find some free house elves in need of a family to work under you to clean, while you are my tutor."

Kreacher grinned nastily.

"Muggles won't know what hit them. Muggle aurors, yes?"

"You are smart, Kreacher, and catch on fast," said Harry. "Oh, and my trunk is locked under the stairs, you should retrieve that too."

"Kreacher will take that to Grimmauld Place and see to everything else," said Kreacher.

0000000000000000000000000

Removing the trunk led to Kreacher making a decision or two.

The transfigured pig was going under the stairs which had the words 'Harry's Room' written on the wall.

0000000000000000000000000

Harry dialled 999 in the pay phone booth.

He asked for the police.

"It's that Potter boy, again, at 4 Privet Drive," he said. "His uncle has been beating on him again, and I haven't heard a peep out of him. I'm scared they've killed him this time. Me? Oh, just a passer by as you might say, I 'm not giving you my name, I don't want Dursley to kill me too." And he hung up.

Kreacher popped him to Grimmauld Place, and then popped back to the phone, doing as Harry had done.

"I heard that scared lad tell you about the Dursleys," he said, trying to sound like an elderly female human, "And I've been in that house, and the boy is made to sleep in a cupboard. You check it out!" and he rang off. Sniggering he rejoined his new Lord Black.

000000000000000000000000000000

As it happened, Dumbledore was not in his office when the wards fell. He was failing to attend the reading of Sirius Black's will, which had been scheduled, until the Black family elf informed Griphook that his master had received no notification, and that he had, not long since, removed a number of illegal wards from his person including a mail redirection ward.

As a result of this, Dumbledore missed the arrival of two police cars arriving in Privet Drive, even with Arabella Figg franticallyfloo calling him.

As it was Mundungus Fletcher on guard, there was no chance of a patronus reaching Dumbledore as Mundungus only had happy thoughts about dodgy deals, and magic doesn't count those.

He did get a patronus from Tonks, who was relieving Fletcher, which was hysterical and made no sense, as what she said was "He's dead and they are carrying him out under a sheet!"

Albus Dumbledore could not imagine for one moment who might be dead, and moreover he was irritated by the supercilious goblin he was talking to informing him that he had not been notified in writing by the new Lord Black that one Albus Peabrain Bighead Wuffstone Dumbledore had been named his proxy.

"Well, of course not, he is grieving," said Dumbledore. "And you need not worry him with this Lord Black business, it will only upset him."

"Gringotts does not break client confidentiality," said the goblin.

Dumbledore left fuming for his office, where he discovered all his gadgets were collapsed and sooty.

He flooed Arabella.

"Headmaster, I've been trying to get you for hours!" cried the squib. "Those muggles have killed Harry!"

"Oh, Arabella, you are exaggerating, they may have bruised him a little ..."

"Dumbledore, you will listen to me! They carried out his body on a stretcher, with a sheet over it, and arrested the Dursleys," said Arabella.

The windows shattered.

How could he have miscalculated so badly? The Dursleys were supposed to neglect the boy so he would be glad of attention, yes, but ... Dumbledore was apparating to Privet Drive, where SOCOs were still going through the house, and police officers were taking statements from all the neighbours.

Dumbledore apparated back to Hogsmeade with a heavy heart. He had never intended Harry to come to harm. Just to be a bit toughened up, and to be ready to be guided by an older, wiser head.

000000000000000000000000000000

Harry had some thinking to do.

His friends had not bothered to contact him, and that hurt. Ron always took the line of least resistance, and if ordered not to write, he would obey. Hermione was too mesmerised by obeying authority. She would do as she was told.

So what was he going to do?

Ron was always a fair weather friend, inclined to jealous fits. He could be a good mate, but he had to have his ego stroked the whole time. How would he react to Harry being Lord Black? Harry pulled a rueful face.

He would find more to be jealous about, and would try to make Harry give it up.

He bore Ron no ill-will; it was not his fault he was rather superficial. It was Molly's if it was anyone's, and Harry was not readily about to forgive Molly for treating Sirius like a naughty infant, after he had opened his home to the Weasleys. The Weasleys had given him affection when he craved it, but they were not reliable. Ron liked the reflected glory, and part of Harry liked him a lot, but he would lay money that if Ron learned he was trying to find out enough to be the person Sirius' heir should be, then Ron would throw a tantrum.

Hermione. That was a dilemma.

Hermione was insecure, and craved validation from parent-figures, and it was a loyalty which was admirable that she had often gone against that to help him.

The way round it was easy.

Harry Potter is dead, long live Lord Black.

He would find out what Sirius had left, he would have a will in the name of Harry Potter, leaving everything to a fictitious person who would now be Lord Black.

And when he knew all the protocols, his new persona would go to Hogwarts, and repeat the fifth year, in order to gain better OWLs. He was, after all, small enough to pass as a third year, and there were first years who were bigger. He would make new friends with no preconceived ideas.

And if Hermione and Ron cared to befriend an unknown orphan who had inherited from Harry, then he would give them time of day.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Gringotts were co-operative to anyone who was ready to pay them enough. It was no skin of their nose if their client wanted to be dead, so long as he paid them their taxes and dues, and set up a plausible recipient whose vaults would be able to be invested to bring them in more money. Alphard Sirius Black was born, and duly moved to England, having been living in Canada, where he was homeschooled.

Fortunately Remus had written to Harry before Dumbledore released the news that Harry was dead, and Kreacher collected him and brought him to meet Harry.

"You say you tried to visit me, but the wards would not let you; are you telling me that Dumbledore warded me against one of my father's oldest friends?" he asked.

"Yes, and when I went to complain, he told me I was too dangerous for you to know. You know how it is, he makes you feel that everything is reasonable."

"And he told you not to contact me this summer, despite it being well known that those who are grieving need to talk about it," said Harry.

"He said you would want to be with your real family..." the werewolf broke off as the room vibrated.

"Kreacher," said Harry, "Tell Lupin the state in which I was when you rescued me."

Kreacher recounted with great delight the catalogue of injuries, and Remus Lupin looked sick.

"I'd have a better chance going a round with you at full moon than with my whale of an uncle," said Harry. "I don't know how they haven't killed me. I'm starved and though I'm not usually beaten, I have to work so hard, I have passed out."

"Surely Dumbledore did not know about this?" cried Remus.

"Kreacher, explain," said Harry, his voice flat.

"Kreacher took off a health-monitoring charm on master, which headmaster hypocrite put on him," said Kreacher.

Remus sobbed.

"I have betrayed James!" he cried.

"Yes," said Harry. "But I'm giving you a chance to make amends."

"Anything!" said Remus,.

"Good; then I want your vow that you will keep my secrets, and help Kreacher to teach me what I need to know," said Harry.

Remus gave the vow, and Harry spoke to him seriously.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

By the time Harry had received proper instruction in writing with a quill, and had practised it, his handwriting was entirely different to his usual spider scrawl. He wrote,

" _Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

 _I have been informed that I have inherited the Potter and Black estates from their last known holder, and I am advised that it would be a good idea to come to Britain and attend Hogwarts in order to make the proper contacts and enter Wizarding society and duly take my place on the Wizengamot as is my duty. I would be entering the fifth year of English secondary education to take OWLs in summer, as I understand it. I have been home schooled, and am quite happy to take examinations to show whether I am up to scratch or not. I hope this reaches you, I have inherited a post owl, but I am not used to this form of communication."_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Alphard Sirius Black."_

Harry had done his research and discovered that Canadian wizards used short wave radio to communicate for most immediate needs, or wrote letters carried by postal thunderbirds. Owls would not stand up to long journeys in Canada's weather.

He had grown his hair long, like Sirius's, and had discovered at Gringotts that Sirius had left a potion to blood-adopt him as his son. Even if anyone did any kind of ritual to say that Sirius was his father, he would shrug and say that he had never known his father. It was, if one did not mind the pun, conceivable, given his claim to be a year below his actual chronological age. And Sirius would never have minded the pun. The potion had changed his appearance just enough, and with the long hair, which now waved slightly, Harry looked disconcertingly like a male version of Bellatrix. He wore contacts too, and they were grey, to cover his distinctive green eyes.

00000000000000000000000000000000

Harry had to go to the Ministry to take exams to see which year he would be in. Remus had suggested he learn runes and arithmancy, since someone homeschooled would be unlikely to have studied care of magical beasts or divination, and Harry had done as he suggested, and also learned more about history of magic than Binns had ever taught, when Kreacher introduced him to books which showed him how the Potters and the Blacks were involved in making history.

He received a letter confirming that he would be in year five, although some of his knowledge was more advanced, it would be better to study it over and stay within his chronological age.

"Headmaster doesn't want to admit anywhere else might teach better," cackled Kreacher.

000000000000000000000

Harry had a trunk charmed to be featherlight as a matter of course, now, with 3 compartments, and locking with blood wards and password, which would have been a boon to him in former years. He went onto platform nine and threequarters without difficulty, and came upon Malfoy holding forth to his goons that he should have been Lord Black.

"Excuse me, Heir ... Malfoy, is it not?" said Harry.

"And who do you think you are?" demanded Draco.

"I know I am Lord Black, and I consider your words inappropriate, as well as your demeanour towards me," said Harry, enjoying himself immensely. "Speak in this fashion again, and wait until my solicitor hears about it."

Draco went several colours in turn.

"Lord Black," he ground out, "I don't know where you appear on the family tree."

"Above you," said Harry. "I don't want to hear anything more from you, or from your girlfriends," he indicated Crabbe and Goyle.

"They are not my girlfriends!"

"Oh, pardon me, I thought you had some pretence to Black blood; I did not realise you preferred to be underneath," said Harry, and swept forward. He had found the spell to make his robes billow like Snape's in the Black library and it amused him to do so.

"I'm glad you aren't as dead as people say," the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood broke through Harry's self-congratulatory smugness over having insulted Malfoy.

He stared at Luna.

"I ..." he said.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"You appear to have got rid of a lot of wrackspurts by dying for a while," she said. "What name have you come back by?"

"Alphard Sirius Black," said Harry. "Luna, is it obvious?"

"Oh! No, but I see things," said Luna. "It will be nice to be in your year now. You could be in Ravenclaw, you know."

"What a good idea," said Harry. "Then I can deal with the nargles before they hardly get going."

Luna kissed him again.

"I think I might love you, Alphard," she said. "Don't forget to redo the muggle makeup on your scar from time to time. It rubs off."

As a simple _finite_ could get rid of magical disguise, Harry had opted for muggle means to hide scars, because no wizard would think of it. His hair was swept half over it, but it did not matter if the bangs blew aside.

"That was brilliant, mate, what you did to Malfoy!" it was Ron Weasley. "Er, is it true that you are Harry's heir?"

"I am the heir of Lord Potter as well as Lord Black, yes," said Harry. Might as well get it into the open, because he was going to use his political power to change things for the better and do the sort of things he would have wanted to do if he had only known he was entitled to do so.

"Harry never bothered with all that pure-blood crap," said Ron, dismissively.

"No, I have learned from the goblins that he had a mail redirect so he never found out about his place in society, and none of his pure-blood friends, if he had any, bothered to teach him anything about the wizarding world," said Harry.

"Well some of us reject those values as useless and outmoded," said Ron, his ears going red.

"Really? When muggles discard customs they consider outmoded by which the rest of society run, muggles generally call them psychopaths and shut them up in secure mental wards," said Harry. "You can't just pick and choose the laws and customs to live by; if you want them changed, you have to use the extant laws to change the ways people do things, by moving within the law, or people dismiss you as lunatics."

Ron stared.

"Do you want to change things, then?" he asked.

"Hell, yes, but I'm going to out-pure-blood the pure-bloods to do it, and go through the Wizengamot with the seats I hold there," said Harry.

"It's the knight's move," Ron said. "Two to the side to make one forward."

"I know the Bishop ranks higher than the knight, but I like playing on my knights," said Harry, who had been playing a lot of chess with Remus, and with Kreacher, who was a cunning player.

"Well, mate, I'll study all the ruddy customs for Harry's memory, and help you," said Ron. "Ron Weasley; I was Harry's best mate. I let him down too many times, and I vowed if I could do anything to make sure his death wasn't in vain, I'd do it."

"Ron!" Harry was almost crying, but he managed some quick privacy spells. "Ron, oh Ron, I knew you were a friend but Dumbledore fucked with my head so much ..."

"Harry?" Ron's face went through several emotions, but the anger was quickly dissipated by relief. "You bastard, if you knew what we went through ..."

"Consider it an object lesson for what I went through over not being contacted when Sirius died," said Harry. "Or put it down to 'it wasn't safe to tell you', which is the same piddling excuse Dumbledore came up with to stop you contacting me."

Ron's face worked again.

"Fair do's," he said, finally. "You pranked everyone pretty good, and I... I could have been a better friend. What about Hermione?"

"What I need to know is if Hermione will go running to Dumbledore," said Harry, quietly.

"She won't. She nearly killed him when she found out he'd let you get killed, I say, how did you pull that off?"

"Kreacher did it with a transfigured pig, and Ron, he told me one more punch and I would have been dead. He saved my life. And he's been teaching me how to steal the wizarding world."

"I'm with you, mate," said Ron, simply.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

In a compartment heavily warded and covered with privacy charms, Harry found himself hugged and scolded both at the same time by Hermione when Ron told her who Lord Black really was.

"Harry! Did you really think we'd betray your trust?"

"Well, Hermione, I hardly knew what to believe when you didn't help me to deal with Sirius' death and left me to wallow in guilt on my own, and my relatives able to beat on me because they knew he couldn't punish them for it," said Harry. "I came and talked to you every day when you were petrified, and I was exceedingly hurt that you did not contact me once."

"We had our mail intercepted and were told off," said Hermione.

"You had muggle mail intercepted? You couldn't manage to use your house phone?" asked Harry. Hermione's hands went to her mouth.

"I never thought of using muggle means," she said.

"Call yourself the cleverest witch of your age!" said Harry. "Or you could have called Dobby, and asked him to take a message."

Dobby and Winky had both been elves Kreacher had brought to Grimmauld place, because Dobby was loyal to his master, and Winky was trainable. They were more use in some ways than Treggy, Morry and Seppy, but the other three were more obedient. As Harry had not set a limit on the number of elves, Kreacher had interpreted his instructions quite liberally.

"I didn't think of that either; I am stupid," said Hermione, contritely.

"I think, like me, you were stultified with grief and shock," said Harry. "But I remembered the unofficial Black motto, which probably is more important than _toujours pur._ "

"What's that?"

"Don't get mad, get even," said Harry. "Now you have to remember, I am Alphard, and we can't hang out together obviously, and Ron, I don't want your family to know. They trust Dumbledore, and I do not. However well meaning he is, he has messed me up. You can tell the twins if they are sworn to silence."

"Understood, mate," said Ron.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

" _What do you think you're doing back here?"_ demanded the hat.

" _Don't you oppress me,"_ said Harry. _"I've had a rebirth, so I'm a different person. My sorting should be by a mandate of the people, not some farcical chapeauic ceremony."_

" _You'd fit even better into Slytherin now."_

" _I'd probably also fit nicely into Ravenclaw now I've had enough nutrient potions and healing for my magical core to stop drawing upon my intellect and dulling it,"_

" _I'm still going to put you into URK"_

Harry used Parselmagic to cast a silencing spell on the hat, cast a notice me not on his face, and said in as good an imitation of the Hat's voice as he could manage,

"RAVENCLAW."

He did not feel ready to handle the pure bloods of Slytherin House, but Ravenclaws had a civil relationship with Slytherin.

" _How very Slytherin of you, Mr. Black,"_ the hat told him.

" _If it works, it's a good move,"_ said Harry, discarding the hat and moving over to the Ravenclaw table. He sat next to Luna.

"Just to let everyone know," he said, conversationally, "Luna Lovegood is under the protection of House Black. You do not want to know what it means to irritate Lord Black. It isn't very pretty, and if you are lucky, I will only duel anyone who offends."

Nobody was stupid enough to protest.

History was not taught well, but those who listened to tales of the Goblin wars would be well aware that they had been ended brutally and ruthlessly more than once by a member of the Black family.

0000000000000000000000000000000000

With Harry's permission, Neville and the twins were let in on the secret. He forbade Ron from telling Ginny, who was too volatile.

Ron was too volatile, really, but he was Ron, and that meant the world.

They met in the Room of Requirements to learn occlumensy, and wizarding law and custom, and to plot plots.

Severus Snape tried to get past Harry's occlumensy shields, of course.

Harry gave him a headache, and then said, conversationally,

"Did you really want to be prosecuted for an assault on the last of two pure bred lines, Professor? I mean, I'm happy to oblige you if you wish to go that route, or I can tell you what was written in Mr. Potter's will about you."

"I imagine I already know," sneered Snape.

"Really? Have you begun work on the project, then?" asked Harry. "How far have you got?"

Snape stared.

"I ... maybe I did not guess correctly then," he said.

Harry smirked.

"Well, I expect you got as far as him saying that Professor Severus Snape is the biggest git in the world," he said, "But the qualifier to that was that although he is a lousy teacher, he is the greatest potioneer in England. Pay him to make wolfsbane for Lupin, who you will make your pensioner, and offer him a million galleons and support in claiming the head of house ring for House Prince if he can create a cure."

Snape stared, hungrily.

And he nodded.

It was curt, but it was agreement.

Soon he would owe House Black so many favours he would have to crawl up to Harry's knees in gratitude, leaving a well-defined trail of slime behind him.

And the great thing was, that because Harry now had impenetrable occlumensy shields, Snape would never believe that Alphard Black could possibly be Harry Potter.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Alphard Black was unfailingly courteous to Argus Filch, however he might feel about the man, and promised support to Squib support groups. He made alliances with House Greengrasse, House Bones, and House MacMillan as well as House Longbottom. It would be approaching -273C in Hell before he would make an alliance with House Malfoy.

Alphard Black aced his OWLs and had to admit that Snape was actually a pretty good teacher of DADA. It was not hard to provoke Draco Malfoy into throwing the killing curse at him, with witnesses present, and to insist on having him tried before the Wizengamot for attempted line theft and trying to end an ancient line, to wit, Potter. He held out for the kiss.

"I am disappointed in you, Mr. Black," said Dumbledore. "Harry, from whom you inherited, would never have insisted on such harsh punishment."

"Well, it's not my fault Harry Potter was stupid, Headmaster," said Alphard. "Maybe that's why I'm alive and he isn't. He trusted adults to fix things; what a dweeb! Everyone knows adults are too self centred to be able to be allowed to be in charge of children. I mean, who put him with those murdering bastards in the first place?"

It paid off a number of old scores. Dumbledore looked suddenly very old.

Dobby had been able to steal his notes and diaries, and the elves had been collecting all the horcruxes and taking them to the goblins to destroy. Kreacher was positively manic in his delight. And Harry was finally able to have his scar dealt with, once the goblins had been able to study other exemplars of Tom Riddle's soul splinters.

And Dolores Umbridge was very, very unhappy.

Kreacher had suggested making sure that she was incontinent, in both respects, which would make her unable to interfere in politics, or indeed anywhere more than three steps from a toilet. It worked for Harry.

As for Tom Riddle, once it became certain that he was living in Malfoy Manor, one wizard and five house elves with bazookas could make a great deal of a mess of a house warded against magical intrusion, but not against high explosive. The nerve gas grenades fired in took care of anyone who survived, and suddenly Harry inherited all the house elves Dobby had evacuated right before the attack.

Snape came up with the cure for lycanthropy in Harry's sixth year, and Remus Lupin returned as DADA teacher to allow Snape back to his dungeon. He had missed the softly simmering cauldrons.

Dumbledore was still trying to find horcruxes, evidence against their existence notwithstanding, and Neville filed a suit of abuse and attempted line endangerment when the headmaster decided he would have to substitute for the boy-who-died in visiting a subterranean sea cave. Snape took over the headship, and made a better headmaster than he had done a teacher.

Harry aced his NEWTs and married Luna. Hermione, to everyone's surprise, married a man named Saul Croaker, and had a brilliant career in the Unspeakables, raising ridiculously clever little Croakers. Ron married Pansy Parkinson, which surprised everyone except Parkinson herself who had been angling to get herself a family which showed affection for years.

Neville married Hannah Abbot, and Ginny moved in with Gwenog Jones.

Alphard and his lovely moon maiden raised Sirius, Regulus, Leo, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and Libra. Remus married a muggle girl, and raised a selection of half-bloods under the protection of family Black. And laws were gradually put in place to protect house elves, extend the rights of those not pure blooded, and to provide the cure for lycanthropy free to any who wanted it. Those who did not were declared rogue, and were made Fit Subjects for Vengeance, which as Harry said was what was called in the old days being Outlaw or Wolfsheads.

Dumbledore could never figure out why Tom Riddle had not risen against the ministry, and wondered often enough, and loud enough, whether Alphard Black was in fact the dark lord in disguise, until he tried to kill Harry in public, and because of his former great deeds was merely committed to St Mungo's ward for the incurably insane. He died wondering what had happened to his careful plans, and why poor Harry had died when he was not supposed to do so until he challenged Tom Riddle.

Severus Snape had already become Severus Prince, and was a loyal vassal to House Black, and invented many cures, including one for Neville's Parents, once he had the time and funding to do what he wanted to do, instead of babysitting dunderheads.

Alphard eventually became Headmaster, but he cut all his political ties to do so, and held tenure for twenty years before passing it on to Harry Croaker.

 **The end?**

 _If you enjoy my writing, I write under my own name, Sarah Waldock, and my books may be found on Amazon. I post works in progress on my blogger blog named preview of my writing, where I am currently posting a story about a school of magic and dragon handling set in the age of Elizabeth I, because of Walter Raleigh finding dragon eggs. Link about to go up on my profile  
_


End file.
